Twisted
by eccentric-eclectic-writer
Summary: Everyone in the BAU knew Allison, because she was the cousin of their resident boy genius. But what happens when she is kidnapped by the ghoulish "Nightmare" that has taken three other previous girls from the same college campus? All hell breaks loose. Now time is racing to find Allison, but how will Spencer take the heat?


Allison struggled against the bindings on her arms as she tugged at the extremely tight consumed her as her fear of the dark smothered her and she shuddered in silent agony. As she strained, she softly cried out despairingly as warm blood now dripped from her wrists to the stone floor, from where the rope had rubbed her raw and agitated the now tender wounds. This was the first sound she uttered upon being kidnapped from her bed. Her long, brunette hair was still knotted from her fitful slumber, but the ends of it that brushed against her wrists were soaked in her crimson blood. Her voice cracked from misuse and neglect, but she didn't care; all that mattered was that she escaped from this hell. Continuing to strain against the burning pain and the tough bindings, she froze suddenly as she heard a small click, and the weighty oak door in the wall slowly opened.

The old metal hinges creaked crankily and weak light trickled into the minuscule dungeon. The dim light temporarily blinded Allison, yet accentuated her cuts and bruises that decorated her pale skin. Blatant resentment burned in her deep, wide, russet eyes that had sunken in; her heart shaped face was gaunt with lips cracked from lack of water. It was easy to see that she was slowly crumbling.

Allison's dread turned into rage for a moment as she saw the shadow of what seemed to be a youthful man in the door way. This was abnormal; she had only ever seen him in a terrifying mask of a fiendish ghoul, never once taken it off. Her resolve quickly dispersed and Allison began to tremble with excitement. This was the chance; she just might win this twisted game now that he had removed the mask. If she could get a tiny glimpse of the shadowy face, then she could somehow escape and describe him to the police. She had to try to fight for her freedom; however, she knew that the possibilities of winning and escaping were very slight in her predicament.

"You sick, sadistic bastard! What do you want from me? Who the hell are you?" Allison screamed, rage pouring from her like a river, her voice still rough from the seemingly eternal silence. She neither wanted to show the pain he put her through, nor did she want him to have the indulgence of her screeches and pleas to release her from the binds; however, she passed her breaking point. This was an unjust game of the mind, and he was clearly winning against her. He was skilled, like herself, and yet dealt his cards in a different manner. Allison slowly began to realize that she wouldn't win, couldn't win, and this twisted game ends with her violent death.

Panic flooded her body as the dark door closed again with an almost audible click. He hadn't left the room this time; he chose to stay instead of leaving and eventually watching her from a small opening in the door. His footsteps began to beat against the concrete floor in a perfect 4/4 beat; Allison held her breath as the footsteps meticulously grew quieter, as they drew closer to the chair that held her slender frame. A soft silence settled in her ears for a moment as the footsteps finally ceased, but the hush was startlingly broken by a brusque, resonating crack in the room.

Allison's cheek screamed in pain, and she swallowed a piercing cry of unadulterated anguish. He slapped her, something else new in this situation; he never touched her before. He always avoided touching her in any way. As she struggled to stop the tears, a lone traitor trickled down her cheek, momentarily cooling the now bruised and burning skin. As she decidedly sought to regain a cool composure, a soft hand slightly stroked her hot skin, and gently wiped away the tear from her face.

"So beautiful…like a crystal," a voice whispered. A voice full of warmth with an unmistakable hint of southern origins. It confirmed that her captor was most definitely male. However, it's tone sounded familiar, almost like a lost friend from years before, that friend that you merely lost touch with. He pressed his lips to her reddened cheek, trailed up to her ear, and whispered with unconcealed distress.

"Why won't you have me, Allison?" His voice cracked with emotion. His fingers trailed from Allison's cheek, ghosted over her lips, and rested on her collarbone. The touch was feather light, much like the caress of a lover. She shuddered in unconcealed repulsion and twisted away from his hand, trying not to disguise her disgust. Suddenly, the air seemed thick with tension. A snarl ripped through the silence of the room.

"I gave you everything you dreamed of! Everything! What did I do to deserve such heartlessness? Why did you leave me? Why him?" The man's voice had risen to an anguished shout, the tone darker and deeper than before. His hand, coarse with calluses, clasped at her throat and tightened; Allison flinched in fear and began to slightly whimper. She could see the twisted smile right in front of her face.

"Why did you leave when I had told you that I loved you? Why, instead of me, your perfect and ideal match, did you choose _him?_" Though fearful of death, Allison became confused and pondered at the question.

"What are you talking about? I don't know who you even are." Allison whispered hoarsely. Once again, there was a silence; she fully realized that her life hung in the balance. A furious shriek tore through the air, and she was sent backwards in the chair, falling to the floor with a crash. His hand gripped at her long hair and pulled roughly.

"You bitch! You vile vixen! You should rot in hell where you belong! How dare you? After all the things I have done for you!" He raged. He started to beat her. His knees and feet collided with her stomach; his hands battered her face and clawed her arms. This went for 10 minutes; yet to her, it lasted for hours. His anger escalated with each blow. As his hits calmed, he kneeled close to her head and bent down to her face.

"Next time you say something like that, it won't just be my hands and feet that will even touch you." He whispered harshly. He stood up and added one last swift kick to her ribs. He waltzed out of the dungeon, humming the cheesy, romantic tune from Romeo+ Juliet as if what he had just done was his everyday lifestyle; common and average. Allison watched as the door closed again, and she slowly started to sob into her shoulder; the floor pressed against her still burning cheek. The cool, concrete floor soothed the pain that encased her.

"God save me," she begged through the onslaught of tears, "please, or let me die. Just don't let me suffer at the hands of this despicable man." Allison sobbed wretchedly and writhed on the ground pathetically as she choked on her tears, and fell into a fitful sleep. She dreamed that death would soon approach and take her from this miserable place.


End file.
